This new page presents the most crazy, unfounded, and bizarre claims I’ve come across over the years and includes a multitude of useful links to blog posts and papers which debunk them. Check them out, enjoy them, use them, and share the page with all your friends.
In lieu of writing a much longer piece for an online journal, I have thought it useful to open up some to a conversation concerning the History Channel’s ‘The Bible’. Recently lots has been made about the inaccuracies of the miniseries, as well as Glenn Beck’s (racist?) comments about how similar is their Satan character to “that guy”. But not much has been said in its defense.
This is problematic; while there are inaccuracies, I am not sure that it diminishes from the quality or historical contexts that are present. Before Jim West gets flustered (don’t hate me Jim), let me explain my meaning.
As students of the past, there is one constant fact to all of our ancient literature that I’m sure many of my readers will already know: they contain elements of what some would call ‘truth’ (in a philosophical or theological sense), elements of cultural memory/social memory (historical or otherwise), and lots more mythological constructs–fictions, to be blunt about it. In the Gospels, this is probably the most clear-cut. We have four canonical Gospels and dozens of noncanonical Gospels, some contain similar elements between each other (Matthew and Luke contain something like 90% of Mark’s Gospel with their own additional, unique content).
I often wonder how early receivers of these Gospels understood them. As a literary critic at heart, reception history is an important function of any text; yet somehow I don’t think that Luke’s first readers grumbled on about how little it matched up with Matthew’s accounts. I mean, you don’t generally find early Christian apologists complaining about how much Matthew and Luke’s birth narratives contradict each other. (critics of Christianity certainly did, but not generally the believers–which is telling) Somehow four Gospels were, for the most part, accepted into a canon and appreciated as they were–with all of their complexities and nuance, with their competing theological narratives, with their chronological disparities.
Kind of like these discrepancies.
Now not everyone appreciated this, and we have examples of some later scribes attempting to unify the four versions (i.e., they attempted to ‘correct’ the disparities). But these attempts were widely unsuccessful (so far as we know); we still have four Gospels in the canon, contradictions and competitive elements included. So at some point, along the line, these were still appreciated for what they were: rewritten narratives, tradition ‘history’. Most of my readers who are academics themselves will undoubtedly be aware of all of this. And in many respects, probably still accept the Gospels–begrudgingly or otherwise–with their many challenges and puzzling alterations.
But isn’t it interesting that when a miniseries does the same thing as the Gospel authors, many of us just cannot deal with it? So the producers have a square script in the wrong period. So what? Matthew includes a scene where Herod goes about ordering the killing of a bunch of infants (which never happened). Luke feels it is completely acceptable to add a census at the wrong time. And lest we forget, Josephus and Philo were quite capable of rewriting the Bible in bizarre and inaccurate ways; Josephus has Alexander the Great reading the book of Daniel for goodness sake; a book which at that time would not be inked for another 160 years or more! Philo has Heraclitus stealing philosophical ideas from Moses; if you want to talk about inaccuracies and historical improbabilities, look no further than the first century CE.
“Look at this book which conveniently fits right into the theme of my narrative (that hasn’t been written yet)!”
Many have had a (understandable) problem with how white Jesus is portrayed in the film. But Jesus has been portrayed as white for generations–not that this is an acceptable argument, because it isn’t–but he has not only ever been portrayed this way. Some of the very first depictions of Jesus are him as a Greek (as Orpheus) or as a Roman (on a Roman sarcophagus where he is portrayed with no beard, a tunic of high quality, and thick, curly hair).
Certainly some early depictions of him appear closer to what one might imagine; painted on a catacomb wall, there stands Jesus–unbearded, olive-skinned though still clearly Caucasian, and in the desert near a tomb–with a magic wand conjuring up a dead Lazarus, for example. But isn’t that just another example of an artist taking a personal liberty in their own portrayals of Jesus?
“Expecto patronum!” or something.
Let’s be plainly honest: There is no way to know what ethnicity Jesus had been; one might like to imagine him as an approximation of what the popular concept of ‘Jewish’ was like in antiquity, but as Thomas L. Thompson has aptly pointed out, “Jewish” is not an ethnicity. He may have been a black man, he may have had a Greek ancestry, he may have been an Egyptian, he may have been something else entirely–he just shows up out of nowhere in Mark with no birth narrative or discussion of ancestry (and Luke and Matthew included ancestry for theological reasons–not historical reasons). Paul may or may not suggest that he was from the line of David (I tend to think not), but even so that does not ipso facto mean every descendent of his was ethnically tied to the region. Some scholars would like to think so; but this is really sort of a moot point in some ways, isn’t it? The earliest Christian communities didn’t care about Jesus’ racial background and portrayed him as whatever they saw fit for their communities. After all, God does not have an ethnicity (nor a gender, for that matter).
Does History’s ‘The Bible’ contain errors, contradictions, inaccuracies, etc…? Yes, absolutely. But look at the material from which it is drawing inspiration. When your actual source material is conflicting, inaccurate, vague, or diversely interpreted, any retelling or rewriting of that narrative will contain those elements. It is patently unfair to criticize the miniseries for being ‘untrue to the source material’ when even our earliest interpreters were unconcerned with such anachronistic notions. ‘The Bible’ is a modern day retelling, in the same vein as Josephus or Philo, of any of the Gospel authors, any of the apologists and scribes of antiquity. Do you understand what it is you are watching?
If you truly do not like what the program offers, don’t watch it. Or, better yet, watch it and use it in your classrooms. Use it in your presentations and lectures to show, through example, how a text can be reinterpreted to fit a modern, synchronized world–but also how it was reinterpreted in the past. Use it, don’t just thump your chest and brow-beat it. We get it; you went to Seminary or a research institution and you want to prove you know what you’re talking about. We know you’re smart. So use that intellect and turn ‘The Bible’ into a learning tool, rather than shunning it.
The tools have changed, but the process is essentially the same; it just takes less time to achieve the same result.
And here we are, the Ides of March! Made famous by the date of the assassination of Julius Caesar (15 Mar). So I have provided here a little collection of useful links and images and articles for your own use. Enjoy.
Area where Julius Caesar was assassinated.
And here is a re-imagining of the event:
Though it probably didn’t happen like this. Just sayin’.
Now when the senate was gone in before to the chamber where they were to sit, the rest of the company placed themselves close about Caesars chair, as if they had some suit to make to him, and Cassius, turning his face to Pompeys statue, is said to have invoked it, as if it had been sensible of his prayers. Trebonius, in the meanwhile, engaged Antonys attention at the door, and kept him in talk outside. When Caesar entered, the whole senate rose up to him. As soon as he was sat down, the men all crowded round about him, and set Tillius Cimber, one of their own number, to intercede in behalf of his brother that was banished; they all joined their prayers with his, and took Caesar by the hand, and kissed his head and his breast. But he putting aside at first their supplications, and afterwards, when he saw they would not desist, violently rising up, Tillius with both hands caught hold of his robe and pulled it off from his shoulders, and Casca, that stood behind him, drawing his dagger, gave him the first, but a slight wound, about the shoulder. Caesar snatching hold of the handle of the dagger, and crying out aloud in Latin, “Villain Casca, what do you?” he, calling in Greek to his brother, bade him come and help. And by this time, finding himself struck by a great many hands, and looking around about him to see if he could force his way out, when he saw Brutus with his dagger drawn against him, he let go Cascas hand, that he had hold of and covering his head with his robe, gave up his body to their blows. And they so eagerly pressed towards the body, and so many daggers were hacking together, that they cut one another; Brutus, particularly, received a wound in his hand, and all of them were besmeared with the blood.
One of the most famous coins of all time is the EID MAR denarius issued by Marcus Junius Brutus in 43/42 BC. When Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, he threw Rome into more than three years of civil war, eliminating his opponents along the way. In 49 BC, many leading citizens, including some sixty Roman Senators, had come to see Caesar as a power-grabber who wanted to make himself king. This was an unacceptable situation for men like Brutus, who wished to retain their beloved Republic.
I had very little knowledge of this book prior to receiving my copy, though I did have high expectations based upon what little I did know. A professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at Notre Dame, Dr. Candida Moss has focused quite a bit on the subject of martyrdom and judging from her earlier work she tends to treat the evidence objectively (while remaining realistic about it), making her a superb scholar. From the blurb on the book, it looked to be a subject with which I have a lot of interest; it appeared to have that edge, that revisionist quality, of which I felt I would enjoy reading.
There were a lot of ways this book could have failed. It is not an easy task to challenge a foundational doctrine. Often books of this magnitude will fall short somewhere, either in interpretation, or in attempts to find bizarre explanations that side-step critical issues. So it is, in fact, a testament–a μάρτυς, if you will–to Dr. Moss’s abilities that this book finds its footing and takes off running from the very first page. It does not disappoint.
In the introduction of The Myth of Persecution, Dr. Moss spends a good amount of time laying out the framework for the rest of the book. She engages, first and foremost, the modern mindset of martyrdom within Christianity–a temperament that she treats carefully and respectfully–and how this contemporary mentality feeds off of a tradition of an ancient persecuted Christian church. In certain cases throughout the history of the world, persecuted Christians (i.e., those who often face inexplicable hardships, including death) have likened their struggle with the ancient martyr traditions, often dualistically (as in a battle between good and evil). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, she writes, as “Sometimes this idea inspires great courage and heroism and provides comfort to the sick or dying” (p. 9). She then goes on to aptly point out the distinction between actual persecutions and the invoked kind. That is to say, those who would relate disagreements (often minor) between themselves and other political- or social-opposing groups (like those relating to how religious issues should be handled in a secular society which makes allowances for minority rights, for example) to persecution.
We all know about this tactic, don’t we? How often do we hear someone talking about how they are ‘religiously persecuted’ because they can’t force prayer in school? Or how about those who feel oppressed because they can’t get judicial officials to follow the law of the Bible instead of modern, secular laws? Dr. Moss highlights this important issue with a good blend of criticism while recognizing the social factors that push this mentality onward. For that she gets bonus points, in my book. It is far too easy to get lost in the polemics and vitriol, and yet she somehow manages to avoid all that by cutting right to the social factors and implications, while remaining honest and forthright about the ‘wrongness’ (if I can use it that way) of such blatant word misuse. But while this is not persecution in the true sense, she argues, this is how modern western societies–particularly in America–interpret the word:
In this polarized view of the world, disagreement and conflict–even entirely nonviolent conflict–is not just a difference of opinion; it is [in the mind of this social entity-Ed.] religious persecution. (ibid.)
Dr. Moss is tactful, never making any accusations or calling into question anyone’s integrity or honesty; she treats these feelings are genuine (though when it comes to politicians, she may be too generous). Still, her underlying premise is that there are individuals, whether they are religious or political figures, who evoke the language of persecution and–when this occurs–there are real and unfortunate consequences.
It is almost as if they knew I was writing this book review!
These mythical constructs that a person might conjure–specifically those constructs empowered emotionally by persecution language–are far from beneficial. Rather than drumming up strong convictions, bolstering courage in face of opposition, or seeking out peaceful solutions, those groups within our society who feel persecuted are charged-up by this language, encouraged to become reactionary, and cause tremendous trouble–even to the point of committing acts of violence. In other words, one who is under the impression that they are being persecuted–rather than simply acknowledging a disagreement in opinion–are likely to find justification in retaliation; that is to say, those who feel persecuted become the persecutors.
Then Dr. Moss throws in the wrench: What if the age of persecution is (mostly) a myth? What if this deep-seated social memory recall, that many Christians learn from a young age, is not rooted in the verisimilitude of history? This raises all sorts of questions, and Dr. Moss does a fine job dealing with them all. As a minimalist, I am always more interested in the ‘why’ than the ‘what’; ‘what is this story saying’ is important, but not as important–in my opinion–as ‘why is this story being told?’. So I was delighted to see Dr. Moss express this very concept:
When asked to describe the experiences of Christians under Roman Rule,…others might refer to those martyrs burned alive or beheaded or to the extreme tortures and grisly forms of execution that only the most sadistic minds could conjure up. … This is the picture of the early church that we get from nearly two thousand years of literature, art, and–now–film. .. When it comes to why Christians were persecuted, people are hard-pressed to supply an answer. (pp. 127, 128)
To be clear, she does not outright deny that Christians are persecuted (or that they were persecuted in antiquity); she is particular in what she says:
There’s no doubt that Christians thought they were persecuted;… Nor should we underestimate the reality of their experiences. There is no doubt that Christians did die, that they were horrifically tortured and executed in ways that would appall people today,…. At the same time, the statements of apologists like Justin martyr, Tertullian, and Eusebius do not fit the evidence. We need to be wary of the claims of Christians that they were everywhere and always persecuted, when, in fact, they were not. (pp. 160, 161)
That said, I have to find something about which to be critical lest I be considered a bias reviewer; to be fair to Dr. Moss, these criticisms don’t have any impact on the value and usefulness of this book, and most of what I have to criticize is superficial at best.
Let me preface this by saying I really enjoyed Dr. Moss’s discussion of the early martyrdom traditions and how, like most ancient literature, there are clear designs at work, where the authors of these traditions show literary indebtedness to other,more ancient narratives (both Greco-Roman and Jewish). Still, I would have liked to see a discussion of some of the earlier persecution stories dealing with Paul and Ignatius. While Paul is talked about a bit (especially on his rhetoric of persecution), I don’t recall reading anything about his supposed imprisonment (as this is, itself, a form of persecution. Both of these narratives have similar (unbelievable) elements (Colossians 4:18, where Paul is supposedly writing from prison, vs. Ignatius’ Epistle to the Romans): Here they are, captured by Romans for, apparently, just practicing Christianity, and yet these same captors are supplying both Paul and Ignatius with a seemingly endless amount of ink and papyri just to write about the very same religion for which they were arrested. And just who sent the letters? It seems rather bizarre to imagine the Romans, who are presented as hostile towards Ignatius, would just do his bidding by sending out mail. Likewise it seems just as silly to presume that other Christians would smuggle them out. In the church tradition, Paul is supposedly martyred, but Ignatius reminds us in his epistles that he is supposedly surrounded by all sorts of wild beasts heading toward the Colosseum to be martyred!
Additionally, a discussion of the Abraham/Isaac traditions would have fit nicely into Chapter 1, which deals with the concept of martyrdom prior to Christianity. While not necessarily a ‘martyr tradition’ in the official sense (read the book to find out why the language is important), in some versions of the story, Isaac is killed by Abraham. This story also has certain motifs, like with that of Socrates, of a death narrative that was deemed both necessary and pious in certain Jewish and Christian traditions. In my opinion, the father having to sacrifice his son to embolden a covenant has some interesting (albeit, generic) correlations with the passion narrative itself.
Of course, these minor critiques are nothing to worry about. Their absence does not detract from the book in any way. To the contrary, and to Dr. Moss’s credit, what she didn’t include couldn’t hurt her case, but only make it stronger. The best example? The rather small size of the Christian movement in the first few centuries. As a barely noticeable religion, a historian would be hard-pressed to find a solid reason why the Romans would even take notice of Christianity, make any sort of distinction between it and Judaism, or find just cause (or any cause) to launch a campaign of persecution against them. Quite to the point, Pliny, a provincial governor of Bithynia (see his Epistulae) in the early second century, doesn’t even seem to notice them through most of his political career (which is extensive, and he surely would have come into contact with them at some point were there persecutions prior to the period!), and only when someone brings them before him, he acts–but he is utterly confused by them, and has to write the emperor in order to find out what to do with them (besides what he has already done)! He isn’t even sure if holding the name ‘Christian’ itself or if the actions done under the name are considered an offense. Had the Christian movement been larger, had there been an edict or discussion or law concerning the persecution of Christians prior to or during his governorship, Pliny would have known about it. So not only is Dr. Moss right, arguments could be made which greatly support her conclusions in this very important volume.
This is a book about which I could go on and on, but I don’t want to drag this review out any longer (and continue to bore the pants off my readers when they could be enjoying the book I’m reviewing instead). The Myth of Persecution espouses many truths about modern society and ancient society, both religious and secular. But it also exposes a truth about humanity as a whole, though quite indirectly: we are satiated by myth. Humans are simply more inclined to accept a traditional perspective than a factual one. Man is intrigued more by legends of heroism than by real courage and heroism (and many of us wouldn’t even know where to look for it). And whether a story is historical or not will never be as important as whether it is good or not. For that reason, as well, some may not like what Dr. Moss has to say. Her presentation–sound and verifiable as it is–will not win support from certain social groups and individuals who find the age of martyrs a useful tool in directing the masses to fulfill their agendas.
This guy probably won’t buy it, though he is one person who really needs to read this book.
For those who are interested in the early church–that is, the best approximation we can find of what that ‘early church’ might have looked like–this book is a dream come true. It analyzes long-ignored subjects in a tenacious–yet fruitful–manner that will grab your attention and keep you turning pages. It is an enjoyable read and Dr. Moss has much to say–all of it is engaging, thoughtful, and brilliant. These are traits that are hard to come by in even the most popular academic books.
Finally, I would add–in light of today being International Women’s Day–that The Myth of Persecution is defining in others ways not directly relevant to the subject of martyrdom. There is something really exhilarating and refreshing about a book like this, which defies centuries of church tradition dominated by a testosterone-run hierarchy, written by an intelligent and (dare I say) attractive woman, in a profession (academia) also dominated by men (though, finally, the dynamics are shifting–yet not fast enough). Scholarship (and society, more broadly) needs more of just this sort of thing; it needs more books that shake the foundations of long-held presuppositions by bright female scholars like Dr. Moss. I hope she helps keep studies like this coming (and I also hope she lets me keep reviewing them).
I am currently writing up my review (which goes up on March 9th) of Candida Moss’ new book The Myth of Persecution, but here is a snippet of an excellent interview of Dr. Moss over at HuffPo.
But intriguingly, the historical evidence for systematic persecution of Christians by Jews and Romans is actually very slim. There were only a few years before the rise of the emperor Constantine that Christians were sought out by the authorities just for being Christians. The stories about early Christian martyrs have been edited, expanded, and sometimes even invented, giving the impression that Christians were under constant attack. This mistaken impression is important because it fosters a sense of Christian victimhood and that victim mentality continues to rear its head in modern politics and society. It’s difficult to imagine that people could make the same claims about persecution today were it not for the idea that Christians have always been persecuted.
And my favorite part:
You’re both a historian and a person of faith. Some of the historical evidence you offer in this book may be challenging for people of faith to read. Was it challenging for you to write? What would you say to those readers who might struggle with the historical evidence in this book?
In a word, yes. To those readers who might struggle with this book, I would say that you can appreciate the martyrs without subscribing to the view that Christians were, are, and always have been persecuted. We still have an obligation to get our facts straight, however painful that might be.
As many of my readers know, I’ve suggested something similar before about Paul and also about Ignatius. I encourage everyone to check out the interview and return here on March 9th for my review.
In my previous post I discussed some of the difficulties of Textual Criticism, but I probably could have spent more time on an example. The opportunity came up in class tonight.
Since the professor was out sick, she assigned some work for us to do on the accompanying message board on a Rutgers-run website meant to give an additional resource for classes. One of the students responded to my criticisms but either because I wasn’t clear or they misunderstood, presumed I was suggesting that TC is a flawed analysis. I responded in this manner:
I am not so sure I’d say that TC is a flawed analysis. It depends on the question, doesn’t it? If I wanted to demonstrate that the many differences between manuscripts make it difficult to compile an ‘authoritative New Testament’ (that is, a New Testament that is the closest to the original), TC is the perfect method to use. But if I wanted to explain why these differences exist, TC is not helpful.
For example, in Matt. 3.15, some manuscripts contain an additional sentence. The original:
But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented.
In some manuscripts, the text goes:
But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented; and when he was baptized a huge light shone from the water so that all who were near were frightened.
So why the addition? Was it original? Well this addition is found in some of the Old Latin manuscripts. So someone arguing from a TC perspective might argue that this is probably not original. In fact they might say that, since Luke and John do not repeat this particular incident, chances are good that this is an addition only found in the Latin, and not original to the Greek. It certainly doesn’t seem to appear in any of our early Greek manuscripts. But does that ipso facto mean that it wasn’t part of an original composition?
Well, who can say for sure. But this is why I prefer literary criticism to textual criticism. In my humble opinion, I think that it fits the context of Matthew quite well. Matthew’s Gospel contains many elements of light vs. dark (cf. Matt 5.13-16, 10.27, 24.29, etc…); this dualism is seen most specifically in Matt 4 and in Matt 24:
Matt 4.14-16: So that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:“The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.”
Matt 24.29: Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken.
The themes are clear, from beginning to end. Matthew is playing with this dualism up until the passion narrative, where at the time of the death of Jesus, there was a darkness over the land (Matt 27.45). This is intentional, mind you. Matthew is drawing upon motifs found commonly in the Hebrew Bible. The thematic elements of Matt 24 are found in Zechariah 14.7:
And there shall be a unique day, which is known to the Lord, neither day nor night, but at evening time there shall be light.
And the author of Matthew ties this all together when the angel appears to the women outside the tomb in Matt 28. His appearance “is like lightening”. Indeed, Zechariah writes of this period of time that “Then the Lord my God will come, and all the holy ones with him.” (14.5) And in Matthew is the only appearance of the holy ones rising from the graves (located, actually, on the Mount of Olives…mentioned in Zech 14.4):
The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. (Matt 27.52)
Now, I could belabor the point and make a paper out of this. But my argument here is that TC, while very useful at certain things, is not useful entirely–that is, I don’t think it is very effective in and of itself. It lacks that exegetical function that is so valuable to literary theory. By my argument, the variant containing Jesus being baptized, with a light coming up from below, just adds to the same motifs found throughout Matthew. I don’t know if it was present in an original–I am skeptical that an “original” existed at all (perhaps there were many originals and not just a single Matthew. After all, the name ‘Matthew’ is just a designation we give to this collection of variants!). The Textual Critic like Ehrman might wholly dismiss this variant simply because it isn’t present in some early Greek manuscripts. But, I’m not so sure. Even if it had been a later addition, it certainly adds another flavor to the narrative, don’t you think?
It is a shame I will not be at SBL this year, but for all my friends going to Chicago for the weekend (enjoy O’Hare…that festering pit of evil they call an ‘airport’) I have a little treat for you. I have in my possession an additional hardback copy of ‘Is This Not the Carpenter?’ The Question of the Historicity of the Figure of Jesus that I am wiling to part with; so what better way than to have a little contest?
I know everyone has a busy weekend planned, but the deal is this:
Head to the Equinox Publishing table at SBL and find a copy of ‘Is This Not the Carpenter’.
Take a picture with you holding a copy.
Attach a note as to why you think you’d like to have it and send it (and the picture) my way (email or blog or tweet–as long as I get it)!
Most interesting or entertaining picture wins a copy. Try to keep your minds out of the gutter for this. As part of the rules of this contest, you’re not required to write a review, but a review would be nice.
I will post all the pictures on my blog and announce the winner next weekend (by Sunday at 9PM, Nov. 25).
The book is priced at $110 so for those interested in picking up a copy but haven’t because of the price, here’s a way to get it without paying anything! Spread the word!
You may think typos exist as the result of overworked editors who are just too sleepy after ours of indexing to notice subtle mistakes–but if you think this, you’re absolutely rightwrong. In fact, typos exist to foil the attempts of your usual not-too-bright forgers and plagiarists, as Mark Goodacre demonstrates:
This is an oddity that was difficult to fathom. Why was the fragment’s author missing out this direct-object marker, especially if he was dependent on Coptic Thomas which includes it?
I must admit that I never thought to look at the page-by-page PDFs, looking instead only at the web version. But yesterday, Mike Grondin himself made a telling observation on the Gospel of Thomas e-list. While the level of accuracy in Mike’s excellent website is very high, there is one place in the PDFs where he has a typographical error, and the error corresponds precisely to the same oddity in the Jesus’ Wife fragment…
So plagiarists beware! Steal from an academic work to make tons of money on eBay and you may find you were too ignorant to catch mistakes like this that will undo your whole authenticity claim (I’m looking at you, Lead Codices forgers).
See the published article by Andrew Bernhard, who is responsible for the typo-catching, here (.PDF format).
The fall semester starts here in less than two weeks. So during the next few months I will be blogging less but I hope to be blogging more about my classes, my thoughts about content discussed in classes, and my own vetting of the material. Since I am double majoring at the moment, the next few years should prove interesting. Hopefully that will translate into some rather interesting posts here as well.